The Ebony Chasm of Morn
by VenusIsKnownForFlyTraps
Summary: [Harry Potter x Naruto x The Ring] Voldemort and Sadako's daughter, Orochimaru [a.k.a. Oro], has to go to Hogwarts on a mission for her father in disguise. She'll be entering with an aging spell on her and into her 1st year while Harry is in his 6th.
1. Chapter 1

Title: The Ebony Chasm of Morn

Authoress: VenusIsKnownForFlyTraps (Esperanza-Loco)

Date finished: July 5, 2007

Length: I'm trying to get to 3-4 pages per chapter.

Word count: 1,420

Rating: Unsure as of now.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is J. K. Rowling's and Naruto is Masashi Kishimoto's.

Note: I don't know. I'm not happy with this at all, and it'll probably be scrapped. This started when I saw this picture on DeviantArt and I suddenly imagined a scene with a timid girl Orochimaru, age 12, with her hair hiding her face, in Hogwarts getting sorted into Slytherin, being adored automatically by the Slytherins for being Voldemort's daughter. Like I said, I don't know. I'll keep you posted on whether I still have any motivation for this after I post this chapter. The title was going to be "The Black Abyss of Light," but what I changed it to means the same thing. Enjoy. Oh, and I want at least 5 reviews before I continue, pretty please if that's not too much to ask for.

* * *

A lone black-haired self-deduced little girl stood in a large dark room that seemed almost like a dungeon. She was brushing her long, feathery hair with a plain black hairbrush in the front of a body-length mirror, and it looked so similar in color to the rest of the room that anyone walking in with night-vision goggles would surly just assume she was patting her own head with her delicate porcelain-colored hand. 

There was nothing in the room, by the looks of it, except the mirror, the girl, and the brush, though if one was to look closely in the mirror after their eyes were to adjust to the dark it is just possible to make out the queen-sized bed with black sheets and pillows, and a large comforter covering what crawls soundlessly underneath.

Underneath the comforter her friends – her pets – were slithering menacingly around in the jumble of peers there, as if daring anyone other than the little girl to dare touch them and not expect to die, though the threat went unseen by anyone as they all snaked there way around, on top of each other and through the thickets, some going as far as to daringly stick there scaly heads out from under the black comforter and try to catch a glimpse of their princess – their friend – before she caught them from her view in the mirror.

Placing the brush down after deciding her silky onyx hair was ready and perfect, she turned around to see a few pairs of glimmering eyes catch her own golden ones, and allowed a small smile to mount itself on her normally blank and resourceful features (though she wasn't sure whether the snakes had good enough vision to see it in the chasm of darkness surrounding her), her porcelain skin not used to the motion of the certain muscles that needed to be used and the smile automatically fell from her face, but the expression still shining in her light eyes.

She strode over to the bed, carefully crawling onto it as the snakes hissed at being displaced, then stopped as soon as they saw it was only their princess, who they refused to harm. They looked to her with glinting and sparkling eyes, and the smile again returned for a moment, and the inwardly-locked door opened from the outside.

* * *

Someplace far away from little girls and murderous snakes sat a teenage boy named Harry Potter, who was currently reading a vague letter addressed to him in blood-red ink from an unknown personnel. He didn't understand some of the larger words, but the one sentence had him scared to death, whether he understood the complete meaning or not. 

_But for you desire to breathe your last breath within Hogwarts by the side of this time, I compassionately advocate you alter departing back to drill._

It wasn't that he didn't necessarily understand it, though, but more through the fact that he recognized the writing – the same beautiful writing he had seen in Tom Marvolo Riddle's diary during his second year at Hogwarts.

It briefly passed his mind to tell the Order of the Phoenix or the Weasleys' or even his friend Hermione just to be safe (and she could decode what the note said, too). But after the thought hit him it left as quickly as it had come. That would be much too messy; the Order would question him relentlessly, Mrs. Weasley would cry and hug him while Mr. Weasley would look at him with unmasked concern and Ron would be standing off somewhere, angrily staring out a window or being in his face obnoxiously. Hermione, on the other hand, he didn't even want to think about; she would be the worst of all, and if not for her being so smart and cheating on tests for him he would have already dumped her and Ron, but then there was always the possibility that there would be a messy ending, with her wanting to be part of the Order and Ron's family already in the Order.

No, he wouldn't do that. Lupin was coming to get him in a few days anyway, so he'd be able to decode the hidden meaning by then hopefully, and if not he would ask Lupin; it wasn't as if he could send the note to him now and expect to get a reply before the time he was to get picked up, so that really made no sense to him at all. Hermione would be mad and lecture him on worrying them all, but that was OK, he guessed. It wasn't like her opinion to him mattered, anyway.

The sixteen-year-old picked up the hastily dropped letter carefully, closing it up and sticking it carefully in the envelope. With his first and last name in that same red ink that gave him the chills, the way it sparkled and glinted reminding him of real blood pooling on the page and forming the beautiful, grim words he wished to know the meaning of. The letter was, in fact, grim, if the fact that it was from Voldemort had any recognition in the matter.

He sighed. Why couldn't he just have a normal school year with normal friends that he liked, and not be threatened by a Dark Lord trying to kill him obsessively? Man, was his like complicated.

* * *

Someplace where teenage boys weren't getting threatened, the little black-haired girl lay in the queen-sized bed, the large black comforter going up to her chin and laying on her snuggly. Her once happy golden eyes sat there blankly, staring up at the dark ceiling that seemed just out of her line of vision, her retinas burning like fire was quelling behind them, though she didn't move nor make a noise of anguish. All was fine in her world, she often told herself when the burning sensation erupted behind her golden orbs painfully. 

Both under and over the comforter were her snakes, protecting her from the outside world and doing their best to distract her from her inner anguish. The six-year-old felt one of her favorites crawl over her stomach and pop its head out from under the monstrous quilt, hissing loving words to her as it curled up by the side of her head lovingly.

The girl's eyes stayed glued to the darkness above her, thinking about her earlier visitor, the reason the snakes were now so consoling (or at least more so than usual). She had been told something that she couldn't pin as good or bad, so decided there would be ups and downs to the awaiting adventure.

She would be leaving her room, for one thing. This was no large defeat, as she had done this many times before, and had even been to some dangerous and amazing places before in her short life, the images of them forever burned into her retinas. Her father's young face flashed into her vision momentarily as the pain consuming her doubled, her eyes blurring the above darkness together in splotches, leaving plain black in some areas while the normal haunting black pierced others.

She smiled, the notion not reaching her enflamed eyes.

The snake besides her hissed more approving words to her, making her insides giggle daintily as her soft, unmarred hands went up to pet the poor ignored thing, her eyes not leaving the vacant space supplied greedily to her.

Yes, her adventure would indeed be of ups and downs; neither would it be good nor bad, not fun and not miserable. Yes, this would indeed be an adventure.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: The Ebony Chasm of Morn

By: VenusIsKnownForFlyTraps – Esperanza-Loco

Words: 1,698

Disclaimer: Same as before. Oh, and Sadako isn't mine either, though I don't know who she belongs too.

Note: I'm … not sure. Oh, and if anyone is still even interested in reading this, you've probably already figured out I'm trying out a new style. It's kind of hard to even understand what I'm writing sometimes, and I have no beta to fix it, but just hold on. It'll get better, I promise. Oh, and if anyone wanted to see the inspiration for this, take out the spaces: http:// www. deviantart. com/ deviation/ 53179221/ (and in case you couldn't figure it out, I did NOT draw it).

Warning: OOC Voldemort and Sadako … and Orochimaru, too, I guess (Because s/he is independent, I presume).

* * *

Chapter 2 

"Mama, where'd Dada go?" asked the little black-haired girl whose eyes were currently calm, leaving her in a serene, almost trance-like state.

Her mother looked down slightly to her after she felt the slight tugging on her blood-covered white dress. Setting the sharp knife down that had previously been used to make the traditional breakfast that was to be consumed in a half an hours time, she bent down to eye level with the small child and hummed slightly. She knew her daughter tended to be rather impatient if she was the center of attention to people she adored, and the exact opposite when alone.

She saw irritation flash behind golden eyes and smiled from behind the shield of hair in front of her face that she could see out of but no one could see into.

"Child, he went out yonder way." Her voice was raspy from lack of use, but even so it was lovely, a voice that would attract even the gruffest and roughest men to her willingly, though showed that she was not to be messed with in that elegant kind of ironic sort of way.

"Oh," came quietly. Then a pause, "When is Dada getting home?"

Her mother smiled from behind her hair and picked at the middle, about where her nose was, lifting half of the hair from her left side and bending slightly closer to kiss her daughter on the cheek, then letting the dark black hair fall in front of her pale skin and haunting black dead-looking eyes again.

"Child, don't ask such things." She stood up gracefully, picked up the knife again, and again began chopping the obviously dead human's hand, slicing its fingers off for the sushi she was going to prepare – her daughter and her husband's favorite, as well as her own.

The little girl's eyes resembled those that one would bear when one pouted.

"OK," she said, defeated that she hadn't learned her superior's whereabouts. She started walking away, back towards the door that lead to the hallway that her room was at the end of, when she heard her mother call her back in the form of a question.

"Child, are you ready?"

She stopped. Was she ready? She didn't have much confidence in her ability, since she was having trouble analyzing what she was to do. She knew _what _she had to do, but not _how_ to do it, as her father hadn't explained thoroughly enough (in her opinion, that is).

"I don't know," she mumbled quietly, reopening the sliding door and going through to the dark hallway.

* * *

One Draco Malfoy sat in his well-lit and expensively furnished room, the green, silver, and black seemingly glowing slightly in the morning sun spilling through the large window. He was thinking over what little information he had been told about the Dark Lord Voldemort's daughter's newest mission. He instinctively hadn't been told a thing, and so had to worm it out of someone else. Heck, he hadn't even known Voldemort had a daughter – or a wife, for that matter. Apparently, though, he did. 

From what Bella Lestrange (1) had told him, she was deathly frightening with her hair always covering her face and was Japanese, though had turned a sickly pale in comparison to normally tanned Japanese skin. She had also said that there was a rumor going around that she had been killed out of spite of her amazing beauty, and pushed down a well after being attacked by a man with a sword, where she slowly turned into a creature very close to an Inferi, yet was still able to retain life (though she had no pulse) and had a will of her own (which was quite strange, if one was to think about it long enough).

Draco thought that was a bunch of bloody rubbish. What he didn't know whether to believe, however, was one thing that Wormtail had told him, which would prove Bella right. He had said that after what Bella had said, she had also then climbed out of that deep, deep well and she killed thousands with her own hands, and a knife too. He had said something about her using a sharp steak knife to kill them, and then eat them like one would eat sushi or potato chips.

Knowing the strange things constantly happening in the world, he wouldn't put it past someone like the Dark Lord to marry someone like that. Even her name was strange, but considering there was a possibility of her being Japanese, he guessed it was a pretty nice name. Not as great and super totally sexy as his name, but it was still OK.

Her name was Sadako.

The Lord and Sadako had had a child about six years ago, if his father had been correct. Sadako had given birth to a girl, he had figured out through multiple sources. He (Voldemort) had let Sadako choose three names, and then had Voldemort choose the one he liked the best. If he wasn't mistaken, the names had been Orochimaru, Tayuya, or Kohaku, and he had chosen Orochimaru, a character in an ancient legend which literally means "giant snake" or "serpent" (2). But there was just something missing in his mind. He just couldn't place what, though.

There had to be a missing piece to the story. Heck, the whole story could just be made up. He'd never seen a woman that fit the description of Sadako (unless she wore the Death Eater mask and black cloak), or a six-year-old child running rampant in the house, for that matter. No, something was definitely fishy around here, and he was going to find out what.

* * *

Sadako hummed quietly to herself, cutting the human male's leg (as she had finished with the arm) into the small bite-sized pieces she knew her husband loved. Oh, how she loved him. She still remembered the first time she saw him. 

He had been traveling and had come across her well, where if she stood only her head would remain surfaced. She could sense him coming, the evil of the great serpentine Orochi seemed to linger with his presence. She had climbed up the ragged stone walls of her confinement easily, coming out with her hair covering her face, like it had been since she had died. He had seen her automatically with his trained eyes, whose hue was a beautiful, entrancing red, and they even resembled a snake's. Oh, what splendor. She remembered the look he had given her as she slinked up to him with her head down slightly.

"_My dearest, dearest Lord," _she had said in that same hypnotic voice that made many fall in love with her when she had still been alive.

He had looked at her more closely, as if trying to see through the veil of hair or recognize her as one of his own. Since that glorious day, she had been with him in times of old and new, always following the orders given to her with the great power that they held. Finally their respect for each other's power had developed into a type of love, so they wed. A year later they had a stunning young girl whose aura reminded her so much of her beloved's that she had to name her Orochimaru, after the one she had worshipped and first mistaken her beloved for at first glance.

She smiled, remembering that fine day when she first saw her child, so small she could crush her so easily, yet protected by some kind of majestic splendor (3). Her smile widened as she felt loving hands wind themselves around her stomach as she stopped chopping momentarily to kiss the cheek of the man whose head lay on her boney shoulder.

"Oro-Child was looking for you," she said softly to him as he breathed in the scent of both her and the food while his eyes remained closed.

He frowned. "Do you think she's ready?"

She looked back to her work, slowly chopping at the Achilles and calf. She repeated the same answer as her darling spawn had merely fifteen minutes ago. "I don't know." Then, "You already told the cherished, though, so she won't back down."

He sighed. "I know. That's the problem. I should probably send in someone else, like Avery or Lestrange with a spell put on them, not my heir."

"The child is strong, she will unearth an approach."

"I can only hope you're right," he said quietly, not too reassured, popping one of the prepared raw bloody fingers in his mouth.

* * *

(1) – Sorry, I totally blanked out and I can't remember how to spell her first name. 

(2) – True! OK, this is the story: Orochimaru, featured in the Japanese folktale Jiraiya Goketsu Monogatari, is the arch-enemy of the ninja Jiraiya. He was once named Yashagorō and was one of Jiraiya's followers, but he was overtaken by serpent magic. Having changed his name to "Orochimaru", he gained the ability to turn himself into a giant serpent. He attacked Jiraiya and his wife Tsunade and defeated them with his venom (only for another follower to save the couple's lives afterwards). "Orochi" is the name of a giant eight-headed snake in Japanese mythology. The kanji literally mean "giant snake" or "serpent".

(3) – She's talking about love. Sorry if you didn't get that.


	3. Chapter 3

**Title: The Ebony Chasm of Morn**

**Chapter 3**

**By: VenusIsKnownForFlyTraps (Esperanza-Loco)**

**A/N: I am back! And I am also rejuvenated with artistic ability and greatness as I have just seen Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix movie, which totally rocks. My favorite part was Luna and her awesomely cool shoes (poor Luna). I also really liked the part in the Department of Mysteries. I definitely recommend it, even if it does skip out in some parts. And also, by the time this is posted, I will have gotten the new Harry Potter book squeal. I ordered it early so all I have to do is get a ride to go pick it up. Yay!**

* * *

"_We have something Voldemort doesn't have."_

"_And what would that be?"_

"_Love."_

Voldemort growled silently upon hearing the conversation going on in his loathsome Harry's head. Harry didn't know that he had made a new connection so now he could peep in whenever he wanted.

**That bloody brat … shows how much he knows**, Voldemort thought sourly, pushing himself up from the thrown-like chair he was seated in.

He heard a timid knock upon his thick mahogany door and swiftly – in a way that almost made it seem like he was floating like a Dementor – opened it to reveal his daughter, one of the only two he loved and would gladly die for if it meant she were safe.

"Dearest?" he asked, Nagini slithering up to greet the princess.

"When are we to go, Dada?"

He smiled softly. It was just like her to be about business when he was having an inner turmoil-causing problem.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he couldn't help but make sure.

She nodded slightly, her eyes emotionless yet there was a genuine smile on her face.

Voldemort felt like crying.

He had a special connection with his lovely daughter, which was perfectly fine and he loved the bond they had, he truly did, but it hurt her. He didn't want her to be hurt. The connection caused all his pain – physical and emotional – to be sent directly to her, behind her eyes, to be more exact. He didn't know if this had some type of meaning or not, like if that was so she could see what was truly happening in the world, or even something as simple as because then she herself could not give looks of hate to others. There was one thing he knew though.

She was going blind.

The pain would pulsate in the veins behind her retinas and push behind her eyes, cutting off the blood going to her eyes, so the emotion would only shine through for a half a second, then that little bit of blood would be used up and her eyes would go blank as her own pain filled her eyes. But she never, ever complained.

That made him want to cry even more.

"So when are we going?" she asked, ignoring his sadness that was flowing through her and snapping him out of his stupor.

"Now, I suppose. We don't want to miss the train."

She nodded again, coming through the door all the way and standing before him as he pulled out his wand while taking a step back.

"This will feel strange for a moment," he said softly to her.

She nodded, and he did the spell with fluent speed, causing her muscles to ripple underneath her skin and her bones to stretch in an uncomfortable and near-painful way, all the pain and discomfort going straight to her golden snake eyes. She felt her clothes tightening and her skin searing for a moment as it tried to stretch and her fingers got even more spider-like. Nagini hissed approvingly as she unbent herself (she hadn't even realized she had bent down to kneel to keep herself from falling), glancing fondly at what stood before her.

Where the young six-year-old Orochimaru once stood there was now a taller, eleven-year-old version of her. She glanced down at her hands, her spidery fingers flexing and adjusting to the new length. Her clothes hugged her tightly, she noted, but that was why she had worn older robes.

"Will I be in need of books?" She was surprised by her own voice, but didn't show it. She must show no weakness. Her voice was now more mature, and she couldn't help but bring her artistic hands up to her face to feel her soft, porcelain skin that was still that shade, she was pretty sure.

Her father smiled. "No, I have already had Bella fetch them. We may go straight there; she will meet us."

Orochimaru nodded slightly, excusing herself from the room and going to change into new robes that fit better, and getting a good look at herself in the mirror. She sighed. This was going to be a long year.

* * *

"Bella! Where are you going?" Draco Malfoy asked harshly, jogging in his new robes to catch up with the psycho btch that was supposed to bring him to the train station so he could go to Hogwarts; he was self-capable, but he did need someone with him every once in a while. The psycho btch had changed her look to bring him to the station; she had straightened her hair and put on different -- lighter -- make up, along with a nice black robe with a blue dress shirt and pin-stripe pants under it.

"Shh! Quiet down, brat. We're waiting," she hushed quietly and strictly. She'd been loopy ever since Azkaban, so he wasn't too worried, though what did worry him was how serious she was. She was only this serious if it was something big that had to do with the Dark Lord.

"Who are we waiting for?" he whispered; he knew when to follow directions.

She looked around, as if to make sure everything was safe, and then replied, "The Lord and Mistress."

He stared at her. He knew the Lord she was talking about was Voldemort, but who was this Mistress? Wait a second… Hadn't Bella once said the Dark Lord had a daughter? Oh Shoot…

"Lestrange," a voice that Draco didn't recognize said sternly.

"My Lord," she replied respectfully, bowing slightly as to not make a skeptical in public.

Draco's eyes widened as he quickly looked to the Dark Lord. Oh wow… Voldemort had changed his look to a normal looking person, with light – yet slightly tanned – skin and dark blackish brown hair and dark eyes that seemed to merely gleam red in the right light. He wore plain black robes with black underneath, and looked to be about maybe in his mid-twenties or early thirties (1).

"…and my lovely mistress," Bella added quickly, bowing again only to the young girl that stood next to Voldemort's new disguised form. The "Lovely Mistress" was a girl of about eleven wearing plain black robes with a green shirt underneath and simple black pants, and golden snake-like eyes that seemed to see everything and taught you, yet they held nothing in them. Her skin was the equivalent to unused American printer paper, white and unmarred, and she looked rather fragile. Her silky-looking black hair was long and went down to just above her butt, and it covered her right eye in the way it was combed, though it was natural looking, like it normally parted like that. There was an aura about her that Draco just couldn't place, but it seemed almost… regal.

He quickly (to some extent) bowed too to show his respect to the both of them.

"Come, brat," Bella said to him after he quickly ended his bow and they walked off, Bella and Draco behind Voldemort and the girl, which he vaguely remembered being named Orochimaru or something like that. The both of them looked so regal, walking like they owned the world and knew it.

**Soon they will**, Draco thought to the slightly saddening fact, but then hastily mentally shook that thought from his mind. One never knew when the Dark Lord was listening in.

Soon the four of them made it to the brick wall where students and their parents would pass to get to the platform for the train to Hogwarts.

"My Lord, Mistress, brat," Bella said respectively while walking away, presumably to the current hideout (which Draco hadn't been informed of, as he wasn't allowed there unless strictly told to be there for important business, which had only happened once a few days before and even then he hadn't known where he had been).

"Well?" Voldemort's human form asked icily to Draco, his intense gaze landing on him and his eyes glittered red.

Draco nodded hurriedly, quickly fast-walked threw the wall and onto the platform. There were still some people standing around outside the train and saying goodbye, though he didn't really care about that at the moment. That is, until he saw a mop of red hair.

"Weasel, Mudblood, Potter" he sneered once the redhead and his friends were in hearing range.

"Malfoy," the black-haired boy with the redhead said and a brown-haired girl sneered back. "Where's your daddy? Shouldn't he be here holding your hand?"

That hurt since his father had been sent to Azkaban, but Draco didn't let them see that. He just sneered, thinking of a comeback.

"At least I have a daddy."

**That did it,** he thought to himself icily as Harry's eyes flared with hate and anger, a part of his mind silently wondering if Voldemort and the girl had come through the wall yet.

* * *

Voldemort sighed from the Muggle side of the brick wall, crouched down on a knee so he was closer to the height of his lovely daughter.

"Make sure to tell me everything that happens; I expect reports."

Orochimaru giggled slightly at his formal tone that he only used on his Death Eaters he didn't particularly like but kept around anyway.

"Yes, sir," came her belated reply as she suppressed another giggle.

He smiled. "Good luck, stay out of trouble, and make sure to make Dumbledore's life living Hell for me, OK?"

She smiled, the notion just making it to her eyes. Voldemort smiled too, brought her in for a few second hug, then let go, got up, dusted himself off, and leaned down to place a light, loving kiss on her forehead.

* * *

(1) - Think Tom M. Riddle for his current look. 


End file.
